


Reach Out, With Feeling.

by azcendio



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: ALL OF IT, Blindfolds, F/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Sex, Vaginal Fingering, anyway, literally 8 pages of just..., with all the porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 12:25:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14213121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azcendio/pseuds/azcendio
Summary: The answer to the question: what would happen if the force bond connected them while Rey was blindfolded and training as Old Master Skywalker once did in the hull of the Millennium Falcon?The answer may not shock you that much, if you catch my drift.





	Reach Out, With Feeling.

It seems like the perfect time to do it.  

The Millenium Falcon is emptied of the Rebellion after a system breakdown, opening them all to excuses to head outside, go on supply runs and set up camps.  Whatever their reasons, the hull of the ship is empty.  Private.  For whatever she wants to do.  So, Rey strips off unneeded layers- sleeves and endless wrappings.  Strips off a skin of sweat with the last peel of fabric, until the only thing she’s wearing is her binder, pants and persistent perspiration.  

With a deep, determined breath, Rey ties a piece of cloth over her eyes.

“Begin simulation,” Rey orders.  A combat remote whirs to life.

She’s training, obviously.

The heat is sweltering in her room in a way she’s not accustomed to- it’s not dry, but sticks to her in smothering layers.  In a way, it adds to the challenge of her training.  She stands, still, calming and quieting her breathing as her lightsaber throbs between her hands, humming.  As she tries to feel, anticipate the droid’s attacks.  It shoots blasters from various, unseen angles, and it gets in a few stings, riling her agitation and her suspicion.  Agitated that she can’t focus.  Suspicious that Ben’s training stories were just a ruse.  Their aim?  To make a (blind) fool out of her.

It’s as Rey finally starts to get a hang of it (“seeing without seeing”) that she “sees” the spike of connection- a rising, rapid pulse on a shared heart monitor. 

Rey ignores it, and him.  Or, at least, she admirably tries to.  And, equally admirable is how quietly Ben remains in the background.  Studying her.  Willfully, foolishly, pitifully, she pretends he’s simply watching her form for faults and improvement, and continues to ignore the subtle rippling all around her- where his eyes and his mind caress her.  In places his touch is not permitted.  At least, not now.

“You’re sweating,” Ben observes from afar, gaze trailing after a salt drop as it glides down the back of her neck, her spine, and disappears beneath her binder.  She feels more-so his eyes skimming down her skin, rather than the bead of sweat.

Rey turns just in time to swat away a blaster from behind.  “I’m training,” she says as both explanation and suggestion- for him to leave her in peace.  

She can hear the waves of his hair shift and roll, soft and quiet, as he shakes his head.  She can see the intensity of his stare as it burns holes in the cloth shielding her vision from him, demanding her attention even if he doesn’t mean to.

“You don’t sweat like that, even in a fight. Only…” His voice trails off, deep and evocative.  She can taste the memory he swallows, thick and tense- of moments when his emotions and her impulsiveness got the best of them, leading to frantic and fleeting touches in the dark of their thoughts- her skin slipping, wet, and desperately clinging to his.  As she now senses his gaze slipping over, and clinging onto her.

Rey nearly misses a target.  Convinced she’s become one.  

Ben clears his throat, and there’s a shift in the room.  Off-balance.  He’s moved, but she struggles to locate him.  Or the droid.  Has to pick one over the other, and hastily deflects another blaster.  

“...Humid planet?”

Rey frowns, sensing the usual trap.  Casual conversation disguises a need for knowledge.  A need to find her.  It curls like fingers in her hair, cradling her mind.  She wants to lean back into it.  To offer her thoughts freely, bringing him to her so that his hands can be more than just a stretch of longing.  But.

“Ventilation system is down,” she says instead, stance far too rigid for training purposes.  And far too defensive for him.

When Rey shifts her weight and hits another target, a reward is placed tentatively upon her bare shoulder.  Ben’s kiss, lips soft and smoothing, over beads of sweat.  It’s innocent enough, except… It lingers.  Curious.  Sneaking between the gentle pressure of his lips comes another, much more pressing matter.  Ben’s tongue strokes her skin, licking up the moisture, sampling a small taste of her.  It is equal parts salt and sweetness, delectable, and his delight strums low and up her spine.  

A blaster hits her hip, nipping at her, and she curses.  At the hit.  At the tightening sensation just right of the hit.  And definitely at fucking Ben.

“Don’t get distracted, sweetheart,” the cursed man murmurs against her shoulder blade, kissing the taunt into every nerve, knowing damn well his instruction is useless and unwelcomed.  As are his kisses, Rey tries to remind herself, as are his fucking-

His hands come to rest at her hips, gloved and just barely soothing the throbbing.  He kisses a trail of distraction from her shoulder up the slender, sweltering length of her neck.  He lands, open-mouthed and lapping at her jugular.  

Blindfolded, in the darkness, there is only feeling.  Rey can feel the heavy, wet, thick drag of his tongue.  The faintest, claiming, bite of his teeth.  The want, swelling, of his body pressed into the curves of her back.  She can feel all of him, flesh and mind, pressing into all of her.  She can almost see it.  

She wants to.

Her arms shoot up, one with lightsaber to slap away another blasted attack, and the other- grabbing at the blindfold.  Ben immediately seizes her by the wrist, and there’s the teasing pull of air and skin between his lips as he chastises her with a tsk. tsk. tsk.

Frustrated and impatient, she whines and writhes.  He slides her hand down the contours of her face, and holds it captive beneath her heaving ribs, just above the clenching, pulsing tension between her legs.

“Consider this part of your training,” he says, all sensation- the bass of his voice a rough, deep wave rolling over her, and the base of his body a potent bulge pressing into her.

Somehow, Rey musters the concentration to deflect another blast, but just barely.  

“Anticipate the next move, Rey,” Ben hums helpfully into her ear, and she anticipates his plump lips enveloping her earlobe.  Anticipates the lewd suckling and her own ragged breath.  She anticipates a lot: the firm steel of his arm against her stomach, pinning her hand to her own heat and her body to his; the peeling of leather, the shifting of his free hand, south, slipping beneath the strap of her pants-

A rough pressure strokes against her, a determined finger searching for and rubbing her clit, and all anticipation bursts desperate and blinding in the darkness.  Frenzied, she bows into it, into him, and knocks them both off balance.  

He falls to the ground, she atop him, her lightsaber disarmed and yet another blaster lands- square on her thigh.  Burning, as his touch burns.  It’s the final fucking straw.

“Stop,” she hisses, and Ben’s exploration immediately halts.  “No,” Rey blurts, still hissing and agitated and breathless.  “Not you-” Another zap.  Her nerves scream.  Her thighs clench tight over Ben’s hand.  “Damn it, stop simulation!  Stop!”

There’s the sound of motors slowing, and the eventual clatter of deactivation.  Beneath it is the shit-eating vibrations of Ben’s grin, just beneath her earlobe.  Just before he takes it back into his mouth and bites, teeth pulling just as his fingers pull and pinch at her folds.  She bites down on her lip, against an impatient slur of begging and cursing.

Rey knows from the purring of his mind that Ben wants to take his time- to lure out her sensations slow, savoringly so.   It’s why she does her best not to roll her hips back into his stiff length, reigning in the volume of her moan when suddenly there is succulent flesh at her collarbone - lips kissing, bruising.  Curling fingers into fists when tender tendrils of silk tickle her skin - his hair soft and falling.  Swallowing down a gasp as hot waves spread over her chest- his breath, making her nipples peak and push beneath the maddening confines of cloth.  

She does her best to treat the torture as training, to hone in on a feeling and let it come to her, rather than rushing towards it blindly.  

She does her best, to be patient.  

Patient.  Even as she feels the light scratch of nail, the stretch of one, then two, broad and bending fingers, slipping into and stroking her cunt.  Patient.  Even as her legs thrash, and she cries out in thought that there is so much more left to feel beyond the knuckle-deep exploits of his hand.

“Ben,” she breathes, and there is no more patience- only pleading and wanting.  Afraid he’ll leave her like this, aching and in the dark.

At the sound of his name, there is a palpable shift in energy- and she can see it, as she feels his muscles against her stomach, his cock against her back- it’s taut, threatening to snap.

She wants him to.

So Rey says his name again, shaped seductive in a moan.  

She doesn’t anticipate it when his fingers slip out of her, leaving her open and shocked- but only for a flicker of a moment before they are pressed hard, moistened by her want and rough with his need, and frantically jerking at her clit.  Wretched and wrenching at her until she is gasping, head dropped back against his shoulder, mouth gaping open and ready for his mouth.  He dives in and takes her, his lips consuming hers as his large hand consumes her throat, grabbing and raising her to meet the thrust of his tongue into her.  Deep.  Plunging.  Plundering.  As she shamelessly craves him to do elsewhere.

Just as shamelessly, Rey searches blindly for him with her freed hands, and clutches at the unbearable heat of thighs pressed to either side of her.  His thighs are dry and smooth- the leather of his pants offering no purchase for her, nowhere to hold.  So, she digs her nails in and claws down the length, sending the most delicious groan from his throat pounding down hers.  Emboldened, her back arches, grinding her ass against his shaft.

Ben’s retaliation is swift, and violent.  He hisses, the hand at her throat slithering up, over her face, and coiling in her hair.  He yanks, pulling out a cry of pleasure- swallows it, mouth clamping down on her throat.  There is the sharp pang of teeth in skin, bite of nail against that tender bundle of nerves, and then everything is coming, convulsing.  Her vocal chords against his tongue, her body against his, and energy bright inside the blindfold and blown-wide pupils.

Ben kisses over the blindfold, keeps his arms around her, one hand stroking her hair and the other stroking the silky ends of her orgasm.  And she can see it, how he cradles her and how she falls into him, relaxed and willing to sink further still.  She sees it in feeling, and wants to feel so much more.

She can also feel he has every intention to, happily, oblige her.

His energy softens around her, caressing and skimming over her damp skin.  He’s grinning when he kisses the hollow of her cheek, the curved corner of his lip brushing against hers lovingly.  She feels the swell of a memory, and a thought, hardening.  Until it is as firm as his cock, still cruelly hidden away from her.  

Ben lets go of her hair, and she holds back a whine as his other hand retreats too- only to release it when she hears the lick and smack of him tasting her.  She imagines how his fingers must glisten, and glide over the soft mounds of his lips.  

Her muscles tense, waiting, anticipating the next move.

“Turn around,” he says, voice jagged and hungry.  She’s turning, eagerly, already falling back to the ground when he orders her to “lie down.”

The floor is metallic, cool where it presses against her fevered skin.  She shudders, every nerve of her shaking.  Anticipating.  

Anticipating, her hips rise to meet his fingers as they hook on the rim of her pants, and pull.  When the fabric collects at her knees, she anticipates his greed for her flesh.  She shimmies the clothing down at the same time his hands grab at her thighs, and pull.  As she slides, the floor makes a sordid sound, and her hitched breath mimics it perfectly.  Going ever higher and tighter as Ben’s hold locks around her legs and hitches them over his shoulders.  Going perfectly still as the broad spread of muscle tenses and leans down- her legs spilling over and onto his back, his breath sighing over and into her entrance.

Anticipating, she bites down on her tongue when his enfolds her labia.  Languidly, his tongue inches up, up, the tip of it just barely teasing the tip of her entrance.  Before drifting higher, where it lingers at the peak of her sensitive nerves.  Before flicking away, and descending again, and again.  With his hands wrapped and sinking into the meat of her thighs, Rey is free to twist and roll her hips into his face.  Determined to feel the full breadth and weight of him.  

Ben gives one final, drawn-out lick, and finally gives her a sample of what she really wants.  It pushes deep into her, tasting and lining already moist walls with saliva.  His tongue curls, his fingers dig into her thighs, his nose nuzzling her clit, and she hisses out a long-held breath as he rubs inside of her, kneading want closer, and closer to climax.

It’s different, from coming on his hands.  It’s more amorous, than raunchy.  And it’s definitely different, from coming with eyes open and frantic to see his hair clenched in her fists and his body pooling between her legs.  Both of which are happening.  But, she feels the unhinged hook of her fingers around his locks (soft, so painfully soft), pulling him deeper into her.  His moan is a vibration that starts at his spine beneath her feet, petting her toes, her calves, all the way until it collects hot and loud on his tongue, inside her, and makes her quake.  She hears and feels the air snap as he breathes and sucks in her pleasure.  She can almost taste herself, through him.

Rey digs her heels into Ben’s back, those hair-tangled fists pushing him away even as she wants to pull him closer.  She’s so close-

“Damn it, Ben-”

-is relentless and solid.  Removes his tongue from inside her only to move slightly north, to lavish her sweet, rattled little mass of nerves.  He kisses her clit, adoringly wraps his lips around it, and suckles softly.  Only to agitate it with the tip of his tongue, swirling storms of sensation, and the edge of his teeth, nipping out a keen cry.  When his hand lets go of Rey’s leg, she’s already got her arm draped over her mouth, muffling loud curses- louder when two fingers shove knuckle-deep into her, louder still when they slip out and slam back into her, cries barely muffled and hardly muffling the slick slapping sound of his fingers covered in her and pushing into her.  

When he groans onto her clit, and tries for a third finger, her cry, her climax, is anything but muffled.  It comes in colors behind her eyelids and, Force, she swears she sees his smile wide and kissing at her folds.  She swears that’s enough to make her come again.

Again, Ben takes his time.  Pulls out his fingers and rolls his tongue over the apex of her arousal.  Lets it flow into his mouth.  Slowly drinks it down.  All while she rapidly turns into liquid on the floor, speech spilling wordless and useless.

Thankfully, she doesn’t need words to convey her want for more.  It pulses off her in waves of heat, demanding attention.  She can feel it, and so can he.

Still.  She tugs at his hair, and he laughs something throaty and horrid into the thick of her curls.  Kisses it, and turns his head once, twice, to kiss and nip at her quivering thighs- all the while his hair tickling her.  All of it, riling her up just as she’s coming down.  Her nails dig into scalp, warning him.

Rey definitely sees his smile this time.  Hears the click and rip of pants, the heady sigh of release from confines.  She squirms.

“Patience,” he murmurs into her pelvis, returns his hand to her thigh so that she is stilled on his shoulders.  She feels the flat pressure of his tongue licking up the curve of her hip, her waist.  Creating a sketch of her in touch, illustrating his desire in strained, ridiculously patient strokes.  He gradually moves up her body, drawing her, pressing bruising kisses into her skin, teeth tugging at her binds until he can clamp down on her breast.  All the while lifting her hips as he glides over her, pushing her thighs between them and feet high into the air with his tense shoulders and heaving chest, hands shackles that slide roughly up her calves and wrap tightly at her ankles.  Her own hands search and clutch at his (finally) bare thighs.

They have come to a head, the head of him twitching at her entrance.  She feels dampness dripping from her, feels a similar thick substance spilling slow from his cock- just as impatient as she is.  

In the dark, Rey can make out his face just above hers, hair stuck with sweat to his temples, mouth slack and open with exhaustion from holding back, eyes black from hunger, lips glistening with her cum.  She can already see how he’ll look when he comes.  It’s a vision so divine, her entire body clenches and shudders in awe.

There is another shift in energy, a sigh, and finally, finally, finally the push of him into her.

She’s embarrassingly wet, ready and eager to let him slip right into the depths of her- but his thick length slows it down.  Starving, she wills her muscles to widen for him, and he sinks deeper, stretching her further.  Deeper, further- both of them breathing heavily through agape, searching mouths- until his hips are flesh against her ass, cock buried in her cunt, his mouth openly groaning into hers.

Ben’s hands slip away from her ankles and bury themselves in her hair, pulling it loose of its confines even as she tightens around him.  He throbs inside her.

His groan turns into a growl.  She clenches harder.

“Fuck,” he gasps and Rey almost feels contrite at the stutter in his muscles, how his legs are slightly trembling from restraint and pleasure.  

“My thoughts exactly,” she manages to say, rather cheekily for someone who is blindfolded and bended like a pretzel.  But it’s not about what she can see, but what she feels.  And what she feels is this: he is completely at her mercy.

He feels it, too.

It’s why he remains agonizingly still, breathing in to focus- as he once taunted her to.  It’s why his kisses rain down on her forehead and cheeks and nose and neck, needy and begging for her to follow him just this once.

“Please?” He whispers, soft and breathy and knowing it’s cruel to brush that word into her skin. Knowing what face, and expression she sees in the darkness.  Rey bites her lip, nods.

Ben moves, hips winding back to slowly slip out of her until it’s just the tip of him- and the feeling of emptiness is at once a reflex relief and pang.  She has to cling to the flesh of his thigh, to the sensation of his sweat dripping onto her stomach and the clench of his arms at her sides to remind her it’s temporary.  And then he is filling her again, slowly, so fucking slowly and stretching that she hisses and curls her toes.  

He plants adoring kisses onto her bended knees as he thrusts, and swallows her protests when he remains the course of slow and steady, savoring.  There is a point to it- Rey knows.  So she can feel how hard and hear how loud he yearns for her- the whole length of him shuddering deep inside her, slick with their shared need when he leaves her.  It was never too difficult to gauge his feelings in sight but, blinded, she can feel everything he wants to express.  It floods into her and washes up all around her.  And she can just as clearly feel how willing she is to absorb those emotions, to absorb him.  Her walls open up and take him deep and, even when his hips press hard into her, she wants him to go deeper still.  Harder.

The lesson of patience is lost on her.

When he sinks into her again, intent on driving her slowly into madness, Rey’s walls clamp down on him- hard.

Ben’s whole body shudders in ecstasy, and the hands kneading her scalp suddenly slap onto the floor, bracing.  

“Rey,” the warning is serrated, tense as the muscles she can hear rippling on his broad back.  Deviously, she drags her nails up his thighs, ass, and anchors them into his back.  She is rewarded with a quick, violent rut of his hips.  “What are you doing?” He groans, and they both know full-well what she’s doing to him.

She can see her own shit-eating grin.  “Don’t get distracted, sweetheart,” she croons.

And that’s the last fucking straw for him.

He pulls out.

And slams into her with an obscene smack of skin against skin, an even more obscene shriek ripping through Rey’s mouth as her eyes roll back in rapture.  The sound turns guttural and vulgar when one of his hands latches into the roots of her hair, jerking her head back until her neck is an exposed bridge of crude cries.  The other hand pulling her singing strings tighter when it snatches her shoulder and forces her down to meet another brutal thrash of cock- clamped, clutching nails pinning her into the fuck she's wanted and is finally getting.  He blasts into her.  Again.  Again.  Pleasingly angled and pleasurably stinging.  The sound and force of it ricocheting through her ass and cunt and coming out powerful through her vocal chords as she urges him on.  "Faster," she demands.  "Right there," she hums, and he shivers each time she strokes him with her words and the supple squeeze of her walls.   

It doesn't take long for him to fuck the words right out of her, and knock out the muscles inside her.  He's rutting like a beast, grunting with pleasure on the heels of her groans and senseless mumbles.  Slick, lapping, slapping sounds of bodies and fluids incense him further, until they're both crying out- until it all feels like one swelling energy- throbbing between them.  She can see it, burning tears in her eyes and red on her skin.  She forces herself to move, to dig her nails deep into the spaces between his ribs, latching on to meet him in the midst of it.

His thrusts are still deep, but not deep enough for either of them, and suddenly he’s grabbing her thighs, clinging on past sweat, pushing them down until she is stretching in ways that has her eyes swimming in light and delight.  Still driving into her, she can feel his thickness plunging deeper with each harsh strike into her core.  Still not enough feeling, not enough of him.  He can taste her yearning before ever hearing her whimper, and his hands rub at her thighs before ramming them flesh against her chest.  She gasps at the strain, at the air cold against her lower back- lifted as it is.  Nearly howls with joy when he snaps back into her, grinds into her at this angle, his cock pummeling that sweet spot inside her- pushing, harder and harder, and pulling her apart.  Vigorously pounding, pounding and pounding her into absolute liquid gold around him.

They both feel it- her tension, coiling rapidly and deeply inside her as his thrusts become desperate, penetrating as far into her as he can before she-

Closes around him with a scream, and comes again, and again (or so it feels as his cock continues its rampage, uneven and stuttering), and in the midst of her own surge of pleasure comes his.  It crashes into her with the crack of his hips and a cry of his own, liquid warmth pooling inside her, overflowing her with him- cock still throbbing and heavily pushing at and stretching her walls to make room for him, refusing to leave her.  

With ragged breath, he slowly lets go of her thighs- but she can see the mark he’s left, two red palm prints seared into her skin and eyes.  They linger like an after-image as his shaking hands leave to cradle her face, as his lips tenderly kiss around her open, gasping mouth.  Sore, her legs remain where they are for a moment before lowering and lazily hugging his slippery waist.

Ben croons something soft into her cheek as his hips move, undulating in the after-waves of their shared orgasm- drawing out wisps of sighs from her raw throat.  Which he immediately lavishes. He still wants to touch her, stroking outside and inside, praising her body for its willingness and her nerves for their patience.  She can taste her sweat on his lips, her love squeezing tight around him as he spills and stirs inside her.  She is suddenly very patient, and willing to stay like this for a very long time.  In the darkness, feeling only him and her.

But, of course, the simulation has to end sometime.

Just, not yet.


End file.
